Problems with prophecies
by Soepkip
Summary: It was just a part of the trainer send-off, to have a 'fortune teller' predict our futures. It was all a big, fat hoax, meant to make the whole thing a bit less boring. I mean, who believes that load of crap? Apparently, everyone.


**Problems with prophecies**

 _It was tradition to see new trainers off with a ceremony. It was a ridiculous spectacle given life as a way of propaganda for the trainer programme, sold to us as 'a chance for family and friends to say goodbye and spend one last, fun-filled day with their loved ones'. It had it all, crying parents and pompous small-town mayors and even a rackety old fortune teller to predict the greatness of these new trainers. My problem? The hag's prediction of my future. My issue with it? How everyone seems to believe it._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

It was my turn to step on the small wooden stage. I did so with a cheek-numbing fake smile plastered on my face. People clapped politely, though one of my brother's let out a loud, exorbitant cry. It took all my willpower not to turn around and level him with a glare. Why was I doing this again? Why? My feet carried me to the lady excessively draped in purple and silver shawls, dozens of beady necklaces and bracelets chiming with every move of her wrinkly hands with the long, yellowing nails.

"Come forth childe," she rasped and beckoned me even closer. I obliged, swallowing down my distaste. "Now- your hand."

My mind went to the bottle of antibacterial gel I had stuffed in my bag, the contents of which I would be reacquainted with as soon as I got off this stage. Reassured, I offer her my hand.

Her eyes went hazy as soon as she grasped her hand with her own claws, a well-practiced move if any. It would certainly fool the eleven-year-olds that came before me, it certainly looked real enough. She didn't blink, staring at me with her stony gaze.

"There comes a day the sky is alight with fire and ash that your path will fork. One ends when the sisterless becomes a mother and mountains will tremble when she births the end of an age. Nations will crumble to dust in the wake of the storm she calls forth. If black smoke rises from the north it will be glory she brings, glory and vengeance and peace. It is light she will carry, to guide those around her to greater heights and usher forth the dawn of a better tomorrow."

The hag opened her eyes. She was breathing heavily, quick, raspy exhales leaving her with shaking shoulders and red-rimmed eyes. _Clear_ eyes, her party trick had ended.

"Stay clear of the grey man," she cried, nails digging in my palm. "beware of him, don't venture to the path of the eight gates, and heed the words of your brother."

I smiled politely. I had four older brothers and experience had taught me not to take anything they said at face value. Her prophecy for my was a little dramatic, for sure, but it was to be expected. I was nearly nineteen, quite a bit past prime trainer age, and _way_ past the age where prophecies should be kept tame and boring for the sake of innocent minds. Mine was a crowd-pleaser. She'd gone all-out with it. I didn't blame her overly much, even decrepit old women like her had to make a living somehow.

"Of course I will," I pried loose my hand, which took an embarrassing amount of force, and made to leave the stage.

" _Stay clear of the grey man!_ " Her cries grew louder, " _and be merciful_!"

I shook my head once I was well and truly out of sight of the audience. "Crazy old hag."

My fellow newly-inducted trainers were staring at me with a mixture of awe and fear, though their shaky hands made me think fear was the most prominent one.

"What?" I snapped, lifting my eyebrows. "Don't tell me you believe that fraud?"

Little Anna, with her blonde pigtails and ever-prominent smile frightfully _absent_ , bit her lips. "I dunno, she sounded real."

Anna's prediction had been a journey filled with friends, adventure and ending with a handsome boy there to sweep her off her feet. I snorted.

"Yeah, sure. Anna, you're eleven. I'm sorry but I'm afraid you are a bit too gullible to discern a fraud from a genuine oracle. Who, by the way, don't exist. No one can safely predict the future."

"Yes they can," a bespectacled little snot-nose I didn't know sneered, " _future sight_ is a _move_."

If his reaction was anything to go by I would say my glare worked well enough on him, in fact, it worked better on him than it did on my brothers. "A move that has a success rate of less than 18% if my teachers were correct. Which you would know, if you had stayed in school."

Which wasn't necessarily true, even if he stayed in school he most likely wouldn't have known. Even I only knew that fact because my math teacher had mentioned it during one of my lessons on the probability theory from my advanced math classes. Advanced math classes that most trainers-to-be didn't bother with. They went for the courses offered on pokémon and all that had to do with those critters. Courses _I_ didn't take.

Rick, who at sixteen was the oldest of the group if you didn't count me, shook his head. "My cousin's prophecy came true."

"What was he told? He'd get a few badges and, what? Stop 'a great evil from being performed'? Let me guess, he stopped someone from forgetting to tip at a restaurant? Oh no, wait. He reminded someone to recycle!"

"They told him he would challenge the Elite Four," Rick's voice was even, but his hands were balled into fists and his jaw clenched tightly between the words. "And he did. What are the odds of someone accurately prediction that?"

Infinitesimal, I knew, but I didn't admit it. "Well, it's still a load of rubbish." I bit out.

It _was_.


End file.
